


YOI: The Other Stories

by mongoose_bite



Series: Crunchy's fic [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 02:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16694086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/pseuds/mongoose_bite
Summary: Yuri on Ice fics originally posted on tumblr. Pairings and AUs, if applicable, are in the chapter titles.





	1. Otabek/Yuri Canonverse

Yuri was nervous, which was ridiculous. He didn’t _get_ nervous, not even out on the ice in front of an audience of millions.

He knew what he wanted. When he’d danced for Otabek in front of everyone, when Otabek had stripped off Yuri’s gloves with more eros in one move than Yuuri had managed in a season, Yuri knew he wanted him. He’d jerked off to the idea of his best friend about five hundred times since, his head full of filthy fantasies more often than not.

And now, sitting next to the object of his desire, watching the sun set over St Petersburg, he was utterly, inexplicably nervous. This was a date, wasn’t it? He wasn’t going to get to all the good stuff just by thinking about it, but it was suddenly awfully difficult, and he snuck glances at Otabek out of the corner of his eye. He really was the coolest person in the world, save for himself, Yuri thought, and his insides felt sort of squishy.

Pathetic. He scowled. He’d told himself he was going to kiss Otabek today, and now he was chickening out? What was wrong with him?

Otabek didn’t tell him he was being too quiet. Otabek let him be quiet if he wanted without worrying about it. Yuri slumped against his side, resting his cheek on Otabek’s leather-clad shoulder.

“What’s up?” Otabek asked, glancing at him.

“Hmm.” Yuri supposed it was now or never, and he pushed himself up a little, his nose practically brushing Otabek’s as he looked up into his dark eyes. Otabek didn’t move, didn’t pull away, just gazed at him fondly. This was really happening, Yuri thought, and his heart felt like it was going a thousand miles a minute. “You know,” he said softly. “There’s no going back if we do this.”

Otabek raised his eyebrows. “What are you talking about? Of course there is.”

“ _Huh_?”

Otabek smiled. “I like you, Yuri, but more than that, I hope I’ll always be your friend as well.”

Yuri stared at him for a few moments, and then he surged forward and kissed him, grabbing the edges of his jacket and pulling him in. Like him? He thought he might fucking love him.


	2. Otabek/Yuri Canonverse

Yuri propped his chin on his hand and scowled. “I never thought I’d say this, but I think I preferred the pole dancing.”

Yuuri was slumped so far back he was nearly horizontal, and he patted his stomach. “I ate so much. Victor! Victor, look. I’m pregnant.”

And Victor, instead of being repulsed by his fiance’s bizarre display simply cooed at him and tried to help him back up into a sitting position, while Yuuri cried drunkenly about how he shouldn’t have any more drinks because it was bad for the baby.

“Ugh,” Yuri pulled a face. “What does he think he’s doing?”

“It’s obvious,” Chris said. “When he pole danced, he wanted Victor to make sweet love to him, and now he wants a family.”

Well, yes, Yuri could see _that_. He wasn’t stupid. He was old enough to drink now, and he’d had plans to get buzzed, but Yuuri was putting him off. What would he do if he ended up in that state, he wondered, and almost against his will he glanced at Otabek, who was as always politely ignoring Yuuri’s weirdness and talking to Mila across the table.

Well, he wouldn’t pole dance. Anyone who’d seen his first exhibition skate would know he didn’t need liquid courage for _that._ He’d just needed… motivation. He glanced at Otabek again.

If he was honest. If he was really truly honest, he’d probably get mushy. Lovey-dovey even. Say something stupid. His stomach churned unpleasantly just thinking about it. Otabek thought he was cool (he thought, anyway) and what could be less cool than, well, that. He stared at Yuuri, who was cuddling up to Victor’s side while the older man tried to get him to drink some water.

Super uncool. Otabek must have sensed something, because he was good like that, and he turned and looked at Yuri. “What’s up?”

“Can you imagine me ever being _that_ uncool?” He said with a practiced roll of his eyes.

“Not to me,” Otabek said with cheerful obliviousness which was adorable and _fuck_ that wasn’t cool at all, not the way he suddenly felt anxious and hopeful because what if someone always thought you were cool, no matter what? What would he do then?

“I’d keep him, no matter what,” Yuri muttered.

“Hm?” Otabek leaned closer.

Yuri bunched his fists. “I’d make you mine.” No loud enough, not brave enough, not over the sounds of everyone talking. Yuri siezed Otabek’s hand under the table. “Mine!” he said a bit louder.

“Yours!?” Victor looked aghast. “Yuuri! What have you done? I thought it was my baby. How could you?”

“What?” Yuri felt his face flood with heat. “Shut the hell up! I’m not talking to you!”

This was the worst. He was never going out with them again. But Otabek was smiling, and he hadn’t let go of his hand.


	3. Christophe/Phichit Canonverse

Phichit respected the fact that some people didn’t like their pictures taken. He did his best to avoid doing it when it wasn’t welcome, even if one of his most treasured photo series was Yuuri’s dance-off with Yuri, and he knew he’d never have gotten permission from either of them if he’d asked at the time.

That was an exception, and half the room was taking photos anyway. Including Victor.

Most of his friends tolerated photos. Publicity was part of their work, and they’d smile and look at the camera. He couldn’t say they were always enthusiastic, with one exception.

Christophe could have been a model. He could have been many things, really, but no one performed for Phichit’s camera quite like he did. And he’d do it at a moment’s notice. Which is why Phichit abandoned his breakfast at the hotel as soon as he noticed Christophe out by the pool. No sign of Victor for once; if the got competitive the photographs could probably have made him millions if he’d had an intention of selling them.

“Christophe! Good morning.” 

“Phichit! Join me?”

In this weather not likely, but he only had to raise his camera for the older man to stretch out in the water, head lolling back to expose his neck. Phichit started snapping, and they chatted, catching up on what each other was doing. Phichit would suggest a pose and Christophe would give it to him.

He’d never known it to be so effortless with anyone else. It helped that Christophe had no shame, and somehow that was freeing. He was sure he’d be too shy to do this with anyone else, but Christophe just swept him along at his own pace.

“Bend over,” Phichit suggested, as Christophe draped himself in a towel. He expected a comment at this but Christophe was uncharacteristically silent, although the look he gave the camera was as charming as ever.

Phichit crouched down, moved closer, watched the morning light glitter of the beads of water on Christophe’s skin. He really was gorgeous.

“Turn around, maybe prop yourself up?”

Christophe draped himself over one of the pool chairs, and Phichit worked his way along his body, focused.

“Phichit.” He hadn’t shaved. Phichit himself could only dream of such even facial hair.

“Mm?” He blinked in surprise as Christophe reached up and gently pulled his camera out of the way.

“Have you considered trying it without the camera?” he asked. Now he thought about it, they were really quite close, and Phichit was aware of the pale expanse of skin before him in a way he hadn’t been when he’d been staring at it through the device.

“I…” He inhaled sharply as Christophe trailed a finger down his cheek. It was cold and he could smell the chlorine. “What are you-?”

“What are _you_ doing?” He grinned, and suddenly Phichit, who’d been so sure of himself, didn’t know. Christophe sighed, and Phichit’s heart jumped as he leaned up and pressed his lips to his cheek. “Well, think about it.”

And then he was gone, his towel flapping behind him like a cloak, and Phichit incapable of thinking at all, his hand creeping up to touch his cheek.


End file.
